


Unbearable

by angel



Series: Unbreakable [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel/pseuds/angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion piece to Unbreakable.  Peter struggles to deal with the loss of Neal and Diana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Minus 7 Months

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Peter/Elizabeth side of two key moments of Unbreakable. There's one more part after this one. For embroiderama, elrhiarhodan, theatregirl7299, and all the ladies at WCWU who have cheered me on.

The op didn't sit right with Peter from the beginning. It felt too… easy. Two lost Monets were for sale on the black market, and Neal's George Devore alias was perfect as the buyer. The fence was a guy named Stevie that he'd never dealt with before, but he made contact and set up a meeting for Thursday at five.

It was a cloudy evening with rain threatening at any moment as the Municipal Utilities van parked two blocks away from the rendezvous site, a nearly abandoned office building. Jones pulled up all the nearby street cams and had them in split screen on the monitors so that he and Peter had visuals on the team. Neal was going to record audio through his watch, but it wasn't set up to have a constant open connection. They hadn't pulled his anklet because it was supposed to be an easy in and out job.

However, the famous Peter Burke gut detector was going off at DEFCON red so Diana went in as George's assistant. Jones and Peter had eyes on them from a grainy street cam at the end of the block, and they could only watch in horror as a van skidded to a stop behind Neal and Diana. Before anyone could react, a gloved hand reached out and jerked each one of them inside. It was over in less than a minute. The van tore out of the alley, scraping the side of a FedEx delivery truck as it made the escape.

All they found at the scene were partial tire tread tracks and some paint transfer on the FedEx truck. Further down the street, Neal's anklet had been tossed out after having been cut by force. No one was inside the office building. The meeting was a set up, plain and simple. 

Everyone in the White Collar offices – probies, veteran agents, the Harvard crew – mobilized to check traffic cameras, to clean up the images they had of Neal and Diana being abducted, and to research the background of the fence that had been brokering the deal. People had also been assigned to the tread marks and the paint transfer. The van had been non-descript, but everyone was motivated to bring Diana and Neal back safe and sound.

It was after four in the morning when Peter quietly unlocked the front door of his home and turned off the alarm before resetting it. They weren't any closer to finding Neal and Diana, nor did they have any idea who'd taken them. All they really had was blurry street cam footage of the van going over the bridge, but they lost it after a few turns in Jersey. 

Elizabeth was sitting on the couch, petting Satchmo with one hand while she cradled a coffee mug in the other. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she looked up hopefully when he stepped into the living room.

Peter shook his head, and she burst into tears, startling Satchmo. The dog woofed once and laid his head down on her thigh to comfort her once more.

"What happened?" she asked, as Peter drew her up and into his arms and closed his eyes against his own tears. 

He had only called to tell her the basics earlier, that the op had been compromised and Neal and Diana were taken. Now, he didn't know that he wanted to put voice to what he knew.

"Peter?"

"Neal and Diana were undercover. They were heading to a meeting when a van pulled up behind them. The van door opened, and they were both pulled inside so quickly that neither one had time to fight back. There was nothing we could do. They were just gone. We followed the van on the street cameras until it got into Jersey. Then, we lost it."

Elizabeth's hands were rubbing soothing circles around his back, below the holster he hadn't taken off yet. "Oh, hon. You'll find them. You and Jones and the team will find them."

That's when he pulled away, pacing a few steps toward the kitchen and then back. "Something's not right about this, El. I thought there was something off this whole time, and there's no evidence besides Neal's cut anklet without fingerprints, the van tread marks, and some paint. The van itself is non-descript, black without any tags."

She took a deep breath to steady herself and then moved into his path to stop him. "You need to get some sleep."

He was shaking his head as he stepped around her to keep pacing. "I can't. Not while Neal and Diana are still out there. God knows what's happening to them right now."

"You can't help them if you're exhausted, Peter." She got his way again and grabbed both of his hands to keep her in front of her. "Go upstairs, take a hot shower, and lay down. I'll be up in a few minutes to catch a nap with you."

"You have work-"

"I canceled my appointments for today. Just go, Peter. Try to relax."

~~!!~~

Days went by without any new evidence in the case. Within a week, Reese had reassigned his agents and had a very difficult conversation with Peter about how he understood that finding Berrigan and Caffrey was important, to Peter and the Bureau, but that there were also white collar cases that needed to be worked. He made it clear that he was turning the evidence over to Missing Persons, as it always should have been. Peter would have to liaise with Kimberly Rice, on personal time, if he wanted to continue to take part in the investigation.

That afternoon, Peter turned in a request for time off, using all of the vacation days that he'd accrued to work on finding Diana and Neal and bringing them home. 

~~!!~~

As time passed, day-to-day life in the Burke household grew tense. Elizabeth tried to pull back the number of functions she specifically had a hand in because she knew that Peter was going to break one day, and she needed to be there when it happened. He was hardly eating or sleeping, and it was very worrisome.

Even Satchmo felt the tension and the loss of Neal, who had been a frequent visitor and playmate. He stopped eating for a while too and refused to go for walks until Elizabeth took him to the vet and had to start sneaking him doggie antidepressants in treats and rolled up slices of cheese. 

When Peter got home at two a.m. for the third night in a row, Elizabeth was sitting at the table with a half-empty bottle of wine and a saran-wrapped plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes. "This has got to stop, Peter."

He sucked in a breath and blew it out in an annoyed huff. "I'm so close, El. We got a possible hit on the tread and-"

"Stop! I can't do this any more. I can't sit here and wait and worry and go over all these scenarios in my mind of what's going to happen to you when you find them," her voice dropped to whisper when she added, "if you find them."

"El-"

"Don't. Please, Peter. This has to stop. It's been four months."

"I won't stop looking, Elizabeth!" His vehemence was startling to the both of them. In all their years of dating and marriage, he had never raised his voice at her.

"I'm not asking you to. I'm only asking that you take a step back and deal with this in a healthier manner."

"And what do you suggest?"

"Regular meals for one thing. At least six hours of sleep a night. And spending a couple of hours a week with me where we don't talk about Diana or Neal or Kimberly Rice's competency or that damn black van."

Peter pressed his lips together and tried to think of a response to that. His heart ached for the time that had already passed when God-knows-what was happening to his team, his _friends_. He could barely bring himself to stop and rest, no matter how tired he felt. Whatever Neal and Diana were feeling was undoubtedly so much worse.

"I miss him too," Elizabeth said softly. "But this can't be the way that we live our lives now. I can't keep giving Satchmo pills and pretending that everything's okay when it's so clearly not."

"I'm sorry," he said, assuming that's what she wanted to hear. It was the easiest answer he could give.

She sighed, stood up and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'm going to my sister's for a few days. I'll call you, okay?"

"Please don't go. I'm sorry, and I don't want you to go." He reached for her, but she was already slipping away, toward the door. 

"We need a few days apart. I'll be back by next weekend, and then we can talk." She stopped at the foot of the stairs, where her suitcase and makeup bag were sitting, so that she could whistle for Satchmo. When he trotted over to sit by her feet, she clipped his leash on to his collar. She gave Peter a sad, tentative smile as she gathered her things and stepped out into the night.

He watched her go without saying anything more. After he heard a car start on the street and then pull away, he turned on his heel and went into the kitchen, where he dug around in the top shelf of the cabinet to find his only bottle of scotch. He poured himself two fingers, and then a whole glass, and drank it down.

~TBC

Thank you for reading!


	2. Day 0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter struggles to deal with finding Neal and Diana.

If he were honest with himself, Peter had started to give up hope that this day would ever come. After seven months of diligently following up on every scrap of a lead about van tire treads and paint transfer, he was sitting outside a seemingly abandoned factory warehouse in the woods on the outskirts of Hackensack, New Jersey. Satellite imagery showed that the area was pretty desolate – the perfect place to keep two federal employees that you didn't want anyone to find.

Peter and Jones donned their bulletproof vests and led the charge inside the building when SWAT gave the signal. The first suspect came at them with gun blazing, but Jones put him down with a single shot of his own. 

Methodically, they checked each room until they found a door in the northeast corner that was made of heavy iron and padlocked. Peter's hands shook so hard that it took him three tries to get it open, but it made a satisfying clack when the lock released.

Jones helped pull the door open far enough for them to get into the dark, dank room. Two figures were huddled on a cot against the far wall, and it took their eyes a minute to adjust so that they could actually see Neal and Diana. Both of them had longer hair, which was matted and sticking up at odd angles, and their clothes were ripped, dirty, and too large for their thin bodies.

SWAT and other FBI agents were right behind Peter and Jones, but this was a scene that they didn't want anyone else to witness. Jones called for EMTs while Peter doled out assignments that would take the others far from this room. There was still at least one suspect to find and evidence to gather.

Without even looking at each other, Peter and Jones both shucked their FBI windbreakers and moved inside to tend to their friends and partners.

~~!!~~

Peter rode in the ambulance with Neal and Diana, who were curled together on a single gurney with Diana's back pressed into Neal's chest and his arms protectively embracing her. They were quiet, and they flinched away from every touch or sudden movement of the EMTs. 

Neal whimpered once when Diana startled badly enough to elbow him in the side. Peter was seated toward the front of the ambulance, closest to their heads, so he slid forward and tentatively reached out to cradle the base of Neal's head and gently rub the back of his neck. He ignored Neal's cringe at the touch and spoke to him. "Neal, relax. Let the EMTs have a look at you. Okay?"

Neal wearily tilted his head so that he could see the source of the voice. "Peter?"

"I'm here. You're going to be okay. Try to relax."

"Is this real?" Neal whispered, keeping his eyes on Peter's face, as if he expected him to disappear at any moment.

Peter's breath stuttered, and he had to swallow hard against the lump in his throat. "Yes, it's real. I'm real. I promise."

Neal didn't look away, but he moved his head closer to Diana's and whispered something unintelligible in her ear.

She slowly tilted her head back and looked up at Peter. "I see him too," she murmured to Neal. Then, to him, she said, "Hi, Boss."

"You're going to be okay," he assured her as tears gathered in his eyes.

~~!!~~

When he wasn't allowed to follow them through the Emergency Room doors, Peter retreated to the other side of the waiting room and pulled out his phone. It took him two tries to speed dial Elizabeth but hearing her voice made him feel much better, steadier. 

"Hey, hon," she answered. "I'm running late to a meeting. Can I call-"

"We found them, El. Neal and Diana. They're alive."

She was silent for a long moment and then a sob broke through the connection. "What? Say it again."

"We found them."

"How are they? Are they okay? Where are you?"

"We're at Mount Sinai, in the ER." He practically fell into a chair as his adrenaline receded and his entire body started to shake. "They're alive. I don't know anything else. The doctors are with them now."

"I'll be there as soon as I can. I love you, hon."

~~!!~~

It was over an hour before two doctors came out with news. Neal and Diana were both being taken into surgery for internal injuries – Diana's spleen and Neal's kidney – from a recent beating. They had other, minor injuries as well, but, barring complications, the doctors expected them to make physical recoveries. However, due to the nature of their situation, they had ordered psychiatric consults as well.

Peter had expected that and nodded his assent. His only request was that Neal and Diana be placed in a room together, and the hospital staff was willing to accommodate that after they were moved from the recovery room. 

Once the doctors were gone, Elizabeth tugged Peter to a pair of chairs in the corner and sat him down with a bottle of water and a sandwich. "I know it's pointless to ask you to leave the hospital, but you need to eat something."

Peter nodded and bit into the turkey and cheddar on whole wheat. It was the first meal he'd truly tasted in a long while, and it was amazing despite the blandness. He smiled over at his wife. "Thanks, hon."

"I can't believe we're here. They're here. What did they look like? Do you think they'll be okay?" Elizabeth blurted out the questions that had been on her mind since she'd gotten the call.

Peter swallowed and put his dinner aside. "They've been through a lot, El. That place…" He shivered and looked away, his eyes coming to rest on Jones, who was sitting quietly across the room, flipping idly through a magazine, after also refusing to leave.

Her hand flew to her mouth but wasn't fast enough to contain her sob.

Peter wrapped her in his arms and stroked her back. It felt so good to hold her and smell her floral shampoo and not be worried about another day passing without a lead on Neal and Diana. Now, he had completely different reasons to worry, which were mostly eclipsed by a fear of the unknown – what had happened to them and how their recovery would go.

Clinging to each other, husband and wife both broke down and buried their faces in each others' shoulders to hide the tears. So much stress and disappointment and worry had built up over the last few months that the release was exhausting. 

It didn't take long for them to fall asleep – Elizabeth in Peter's lap with her head on his shoulder and his head resting against hers. It was the first dreamless sleep they'd had in months.

~~!!~~

In the early morning, Peter was finally allowed into Neal and Diana's hospital room. They were in separate beds with monitors and tubes and wires surrounding their supine bodies. Both had been cleaned up, but there were clear bruises, in varying stages of healing, on their faces and arms. 

Peter took the seat next to Neal's bed and tentatively started rubbing circles on the back of his hand with his thumb. It was a gesture that Peter had always found soothing when he was the one laying in the hospital bed. 

Neal twitched and muttered something that sounded, terrifyingly, like "Die, die, die, die." 

Peter took a deep breath before he leaned over the semi-conscious younger man. He stroked the soft hair at Neal's temple, also hoping it would soothe him. "Shhhh. Neal, you're okay. You're home now. Everything's going to be okay."

Neal's breathing hitched, and his mumblings became something more like, "Wanna die. Please. Wanna die."

"No, no," Peter frantically responded. "Neal, you're going to be okay. Calm down. It's going to be okay."

Neal tossed his head away from Peter's hand and struggled to open his eyes. "Diana," he called in a strangled voice, louder but raspy and still much too quiet to reach the other bed where she was still in a drugged sleep. "Diana!"

Relief washed over Peter with such strength that his legs almost buckled when he realized Neal had only been trying to ask for Diana. He leaned a hip against Neal's bed and smiled down at him. "Diana's right beside you. She's going to be okay too."

Neal turned his head in the direction that Peter was pointing and saw the familiar silhouette of Diana through his hazy vision. He blinked once and then started pushing at his blankets, at Peter's restraining hands, at anything standing between him and her. "Please. Let me. Diana! Need Diana!"

Peter pressed the call button and then put his hands firmly but not painfully on Neal's shoulders. "Calm down, Neal. Relax. You're hurt and you can't get up. Neal, relax."

When the nurse came through the door, Peter explained the situation and offered the suggestion of pushing the beds together as an alternative to sedating Neal, who already had plenty of drugs coursing through his system. The nurse was understandably reluctant, but Peter dredged up everything Neal had ever taught him and convinced her that it was for the good of the patients. 

Neal settled down once he was holding Diana's hand and fell back to sleep with his face turned toward her. Peter sank into his chair and watched over them. He was so damn glad that he'd found them, but he couldn't help but wonder what the future held and how they would all heal from this.

~Finis

Thank you for reading!


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